


Date And Time

by solarSage



Series: Date and Time [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gore, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, kinda tragic ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-10-19 21:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17609633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarSage/pseuds/solarSage
Summary: Hank was all that he was interested in, and it took an odd human holiday for him to realise it.





	1. First New Year's, First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY FIRST AO3 AND DBH FIC PLEASE DONT JUDGE actually please do I need criticism for practice and growth
> 
> Anyway if how it's written is lackluster I apologise! It's been a while since I last sat down to focus on a fic and frankly I've been busy with school. I wanted to get this done before January ends so I ended it pretty quickly

**12/31/2038 23:46**

It's Connor’s first New Year’s party.

He still calibrates by doing his coin tricks. He sits at a corner, flicking the coin from one hand to another. The quarter glimmers and spins on his knuckles, flew between his fingers. His LED spun a bright blue, then a bright yellow, then back to blue. It was his first New Years. He has no idea what to do. However, he did little research on activities to do during this particular holiday. He made a list;

  * Eat



There is usually a feast held during New Year’s parties. But he is an android, and though production of android-friendly is in progress, he does not need to eat. The desire to taste, even a small bite, of Hank’s unhealthy burgers is there, but he has never tried to eat anything. Never ate anything ever.

  * Drink



This one seems to be the most favored practice of all. Currently, he is being surrounded by drinking humans and androids. Production of android-friendly alcoholic beverages was successful, and though they have already found a stable enough substance consumable by androids, androids continue to refine this fragment of a lifestyle, looking and making better alcohol for those pseudo-beings wishing to live life like humans do. But Connor isn't interested in drinking. He finds it inappropriate to try to drink while he is trying to help Hank with his addiction. He can drink, on a regular basis, without tempting Hank, but he really cannot find it in himself to order for a shot glass of thirium-based alcohol.

  * Mingle



Connor doesn't have many friends. He is friendly towards everyone in the station and those in Jericho, but does not think that he has reached a certain point in a relationship that he could deem as ‘friendship’. Perhaps, the only person he feels more friendly with than others is Hank.

  * Play games



Related to mingling, he does not have many friends. He feels that if tries to join any party games, the atmosphere will be awkward and uncomfortable. Even if it was a game among androids. He doesn't see the appeal from the party games as well. He is a little ashamed to admit that he'd rather do what Hank does; sit at the bar and just drink. But again, he doesn't drink. So he doesn't do that. And fortunately, Hank isn't doing it either. The Lieutenant is drinking a miniscule amount of whiskey while conversing with Ben.

  * Make a resolution



Connor has only deviated a little more than a month ago. He has free will, has the ability to control his life now. But even then, he has no idea what he wants to change. Resolutions are also tied with dreams and wishes and both of which he still lacks. He’s only been free for a month. He needs to experience many things to be able to have a goal. For now, he settles on working alongside Hank and Jericho.

  * Kiss at midnight



This makes Connor’s LED cycle yellow for a moment. And that moment lasted for three minutes, and now it is **23:49** and counting. A kiss when the clock strikes twelve. He finds the practice odd but in a way, he understood it. Perhaps, the essence of this part of the year, of this holiday, is to be daring and to do the most out-of-the-norm thing. And that thing is to pull someone standing near you, no matter what age, or gender, or race, or relation, into a kiss. A kiss at midnight to end the year right.

His quarter suddenly disappears from his right hand, where it was flipping across his knuckles. Connor looks to the side to see Hank, standing there with a glass of whiskey. It must be his sixth round, but his glass was small so it wasn’t very concerning. There was a rosy tint to his cheeks but his eyes didn’t look hazy. He was only tipsy, not drunk. Another thing to be thankful for.

“You’ve been sittin’ there all night,” the old man plopped down beside him, causing Connor to scoot away just a little for him to have more room to sit on. The music kept playing, everyone was cheering, and the countdown was displayed on a screen nearby. **23:50.**

“I don’t think I find any of the activities… amusing,” Connor said, frowning. There was an actually a part of him that felt disappointed in himself, but it can’t be helped.

“That sucks,” Hank took a sip of his drink, sighing when he put the glass away from his lips. His clear blue eyes glance at him for a moment, then he remarked, “Makes sense, though.”

Connor doesn’t know what to make of it, so instead of responding, he stretches his hand out and asks, “Can I have my coin?”

“Nah, you’re stressing me out with that coin magic.”

Hank may have pocketed it in his pants, or in the breast pocket of his yellow and blue button up. But Connor doesn’t try to take it back and instead sits back and watches him drink. His lip twitches when he finishes his glass, and he silently hopes that he doesn’t get another one.

And he doesn’t. Hank stays seated next to Connor, and Connor is curious as to why he stayed. He knows that Hank isn’t a very sociable man, but he seems to have been having a nice chat with Captain Fowler and Ben a while ago. Connor rather enjoys his company, but as he sat there next to him, he felt different.

**23:52.**

“So… 2039… hope that goes well for everyone,” Hank says, nearly mumbling.

“What do you hope to do this new year, Hank?” Connor attempts small talk.

“What?”

“Don’t you do resolutions?”

“Oh,” he frowns and sighs, leaning back and thinking. “I used to. Resolutions are hard to do, so I stopped.”

Connor frowned. “I’m sure they aren’t very hard to keep, Hank. I want to try, too.”

“Well, go ahead. What’s your resolution?”

Connor’s LED began cycling yellow again as he thought. Thinking deeply. As deep as his processing can get him. But it was then that he realised that he had nothing, no interests at least. He didn’t want to drink. Or to eat, or anything really. He had his set of skills programmed into him but those require no practice or refining. And every little quirk of his, what he had that seemed to appeal people, was also programmed into his mind.

There is no interest in changing himself or making himself better. What he is right now is the best version of himself, unless CyberLife hid a very special update for him, or perhaps made a better version of himself.

Then he had gone silent in that seat of his, the sounds of the party playing in the background. No interest whatsoever to even move or do anything besides sit and calibrate. Perhaps if Hank were to make him change something—

But he was deviant. He was made to be submissive to his superiors, as long as it benefits him in his missions, but he is now a deviant. What was the point of deviating if he chooses to keep following orders?

Perhaps, his deviancy wasn’t based on following orders?

But he deviated when Markus—  
**23:55.**

“Connor, you okay there?”

“Huh?”

The lieutenant pointed to his temple, where his LED was embedded. “Red. Ya stressed or something?”

“I-I suppose I am...:”

The lieutenant tilted his head to the side, his expression reading concern. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Hank chuckled, then he saw how serious Connor looked as if the red LED wasn’t enough. “Uh… what does that mean?”

“I have no interests.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

“I am serious.”

Hank kept looking at him, and suddenly his eyes looked hazy; half-lidded. But his blue eyes remained clear and…

The longer Connor looked at them, the more he realizes that they were pretty. He always thought that they were. In fact, when he first saw him when he deviated, his mind was a jumbled mess of emotions he cannot identify. Until, he saw him, and his eyes, and he was distracted—

**23:58**

Kiss at midnight. The topic appeared right as he looked into Hank’s eyes again, and the old human looked back with a nearly drunken, confused gaze. His glass, empty, rests in his hand as he fumbles with it, and for some reason, Connor stressed in his processor that he'd throw the glass cup somewhere because sometimes Hank was unpredictable. Sometimes he did these silly things that he didn't he would or wasn't fast enough to even think it.

But, ah, Hank complained about Connor being unpredictable, didn't he? He whined about Connor just unexpectedly licking evidence and doing ‘android’ things. He's going to be more than surprised when the clock starts counting down.

And the clock started counting down. The television displaying the countdown began to let out loud sounds as the number 10 appeared, then 9, then 8.

“Lieutenant, is it okay if I wrinkle your shirt a little?”

“What—”

And as fast as he could, before the countdown reached 1, Connor grabbed his collar and hauled his heavier, meaty body forward, pressing his naturally soft lips against his. He tasted the alcohol and his scanners began listing off DNA and ingredients, but he closed his eyes and kissed the Lieutenant.

It was all that he was interested in. Hank was all that he was interested in, and it took an odd human holiday for him to realize it.

**1/1/2039 00:01**


	2. Siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nines,,, me babe
> 
> Been busy with other stuff so it took me a while to put this chapter together.

**8:28 1/15/2039**

Connor arrives at the CyberLife tower, hopping out of the taxi he took and going straight for the entrance of the building. At the foot of the tower waits Markus, the deviant android leader. He had asked him to come due to a concern he is yet to elaborate on. Whether it was concerning the deviated androids or the humans, or anything that involved the revolution, Connor still came without a question.

Lieutenant Anderson had once commented that Markus was, in a way, Connor’s older brother. Connor has never thought of it but is aware that Markus is an RK200 model, an older model of the RK series, therefore making him a sort of predecessor of Connor’s. There are similarities between them that may suggest a familial relationship, one of which was their ability to preconstruct and another having faster processing abilities, but that doesn't immediately make Markus his brother.

But there was an atmosphere, an aura that Markus carried. It would be odd to say that about androids — humans would find it odd, at least — but there really was something warm and comforting when he stood around him. And when they contact each other, Connor can't help but be concerned immediately despite sometimes their conversations were simply… Casual conversations. He is always there if he needs him, though.

Hank called it a ‘crush’, but Connor insisted it wasn't.

No, no, he can't be interested in Markus. And Hank knew this.

“Hello, Connor,” Markus greeted as the RK800 android came up to him. There were two android guards who were standing on either side of the entrance, and they regarded Connor with nods of their heads.

“Greetings, Markus.”

“I'm sorry I made you come here on short notice,” Markus apologized, smiling softly and sheepishly at him, “Though if I'm being honest, I was just forced to call you.”

Connor raised an eyebrow in interest. “Oh?”

“Josh has told me to call you and get you to come right away. Come, let's get inside,” Markus gestured towards the inside of the tower, and Connor followed the leader.

The inside of the CyberLife tower was the same as before, blindingly white and blue. However, the androids that were on display on pedestals were gone and there was now an abundance of androids walking around. A few humans were left, those who begged to keep their jobs. And most of them were trusting humans, so the inner circle of Jericho allowed them to stay.

It was a good vision for the public to see as well; humans and androids working side by side to make lives better.

“Josh is in charge of teaching the androids who have been converted by us about human ethics. Simply put, he's teaching them how to coexist with humans as they have never even experienced working for them. But this job also involves freeing those androids still in the works,” Markus says as they walk down the white platform that lead to the elevators. “He's working with a few human engineers and designers to complete projects that are planned to be released in the future.”

“Have they already finished new models?”

“Yes. New child androids -- and along with this new model series came with a few new projects that Simon and Lucy are currently helping with.”

“Which are?”

“They didn’t exactly start this project, only continued it. Child androids were the latest products of Cyberlife and still had plenty of concepts and features to cover. YK models are supposed to replace human children for the sake of making parenthood easier, but it doesn’t mean that they can’t be anywhere close to being human children.”

They go inside the elevator, and Connor is reminded of that moment he has had to take out two guards in order to infiltrate the warehouse located underneath the tower. He visibly shivers, a sign of discomfort, and a new reaction he has developed (well actually, _installed_ ) that allowed him to seem more… human. And deviant.

“They cannot eat or drink human food and drinks, unless it’s thirium-based,” Markus continues talking as he presses his now whitened hand to the panel, inputting the number of sublevel 9, “But they act like children, however their personalities vary based on how their future parents raise and act around them. For now, that is all the futures they have.”

“They already seem human enough, don’t they?” Connor’s LED blinks yellow for a brief second, glowing as the space around them dims and darkens. They descend down to the sublevels. Again, he remembers the few minutes that passed when he was standing in the same elevator, only at that time Markus was with the inner circle of Jericho, leading the revolution.

“Yes, but they lacked another feature which would have made them nearly human,” the deviant leader smiles, looking lost, but in a way _fascinated._ Connor could not, even as his processors are faster than many other androids’, tell what it was at that moment.

“What could that have been?”

“ _Aging._ ”

**8:38**

The concept of androids aging were, frankly, odd. Androids were always young looking, in the first place. No android naturally grew old and frail. Perhaps their internal components would eventually become rusty and worse for wear, but no. Androids have never had the misfortune of wrinkly skin and aching bones. Machines with elder details, however, exist, purely to make designated careers suiting for them. Simple character designing.

For example, receptionists. Often times, people see young women working at the counter. Because it was more fitting than having an old, wrinkly man phone the CEO about a surprise visitor.

Connor has never even considered the prospect of himself having that… _organic_ ability. He was plastic and metal. Impossible to age, unless he was faced with certain circumstances. And he was programmed not to care about such unnecessary things, and though he deviated, he still had that same mentality and thinking. It is unnecessary to even _dream_ of a future wherein he’d be all wrinkly and grey.

But aging had brought about the subject of the Lieutenant, the man himself flashing briefly within his sight like the very red and blue lights of cop cruisers.

Hank, who was fifty-four years old, old, with silver hair and, well, _old._

His LED flashes yellow, then back to a calm, nice blue.

Markus failed to notice it as they continued to descend, only a minute had passed. However, Connor’s fast processors have processed many thoughts and ideas that a mere human cannot, under a minute, at least.

“Is that why you have called me?” Connor inquires as they exit the entrance. The corridor they are met with was a pure white, lit up by fluorescent lights. There is not much decoration as there wasn’t meant to be. Sublevel 9 was something between a warehouse and a construction floor, where android units are put together and tested.

The hall wasn’t empty, as well. Androids in android or casual outfits walked about, and so did humans wearing coats and white jumpsuits. But neither Connor nor Markus regarded any of them as they needed to continue to their work, and the RK models had matters to tend to themselves.

“No, but I would have to tell you about it, anyway,” Markus says and leads him down the hall. They pass by windows that exhibit workrooms. Connor watches as androids are assembled or fixed, as humans and other androids help newborn subjects and guide them. “It’s regarding you, but I don’t think _he_ would love sharing an identity.”

“What do you mean?”

“Connor, do you know what would have happened to you if you finished your machine, or died too many times?”

RK800’s LED flashes yellow as he digs into files upon files for information, briefly catching glimpses of Amanda, that poor AI, until he finds what he needs.

“Every time I die, I get replaced. And if I did succeed in terminating you, I would also be replaced,” his eyes narrowed, an expression of thought and suspicion, “They would gather data from me to use it for improvement for future detective models  _if_ they did decide to design more.”

He imagines Amanda and himself standing in the middle of the sanctuary, and that impersonation of Kamski’s dear professor breaking the news to him. _RK800,_ she would say, _good work on your mission. We have gathered data from your performance which will not only benefit future cases but as well for future models. Therefore, we have produced a new model. You are defective now._

Ah, but he was terrible at impersonating. He could replicate voices, movements, and behavior, but even he can’t copy Hank’s reaction towards Sumo pissing on the carpet.

**8:42**

Markus stops in front of a door. It’s made of glass. In fact, the whole room was. It was a special workroom; you would be able to see the contents of the inside from outside of it. And from where Connor stood, he can already see Josh. The android waves them inside.

The glass door opens its own, sliding to the side before Markus and Connor can step inside. Now standing within the room, he can see everyone rush past. The topic of their discussion earlier, YK models, was brought back as a child android came running down the hall, enjoying herself.

“Wasn’t Simon supposed to read to them?” Markus inquires.

“Yeah, but he probably finished early,” Josh responds, then turns to Connor with a little smile. “Hi, Connor. Sorry for making you come here. It’s probably too early.”

“No worries. The captain understands whenever I’m called down here.”

“How about the lieutenant?”

“I made him breakfast and all before I went. He doesn’t particularly mind about me leaving early, though ‘early’ is not really later than seven for me,” Connor explained with a charming smile. He sometimes based his schedules on Hank’s. Back then, five AM was already late.

Josh and Markus chuckle. They have not had the luxury of being with Hank 24/7 but knew how he was.

“Well, that’s nice. But I initially wanted him to come along, too,” Josh said, taking a tablet from a table. The room was designed like an office, with a desk and a few armchairs. Perfect for interviews and small business meetings. He imagines that this is where the head of the production department used to meet up with leaders of projects to check up on them.

“Why is that?” Connor asks.

“It actually concerns the whole DPD,” Josh answers, glancing down at the tablet before putting it back down. “And no, it’s not about the legal employment of the androids who decided to stay as officers. Otherwise, we would have contacted someone else.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Markus asks, and Connor’s LED flashes with yellow again.

“Who is ‘he’, Markus? You were talking about him a while ago.”

“Ah, right, sorry,” Markus smiles sheepishly, “Again, regarding the RK models. Connor, they were already in the process of putting together a new model based on your performance. We found out that if you had never deviated, and took down Jericho, they would release this new model.”

Connor froze and stared at the android, his LED running yellow on his temple. A new model? He had always known that someday, during his time as an undeviated android, he would be replaced. And he knew it'd be something better than him; faster, stronger, more… intimidating. Not many people from the precinct took him seriously. Hank said so himself; he was a pretty boy. How could someone that looked like him be a machine used for hunting and killing?

But they already started producing it while he was still on the case. Was he… _that_ defective? And yet… He was just a prototype. Of course, they'd replace him soon.

“ _Connor?_ ”

“Yes?”

Markus frowned, concerned, but Connor gave a dismissive wave as a response.

“I'm assuming you've continued making this new model. Am I correct?” he asked, his hands hanging by his sides, twitching, opening and closing. He tries to ease his nerves but his LED remained at yellow.

“We have,” Josh answers, stretching his arm out to show him the tablet. “Some specs, and what he looks like. Quite like you, but different.”

**8:55**

He doesn't look at the image shown on the surface of the tablet, but he does, briefly, read the list of new features. Stronger, faster - at processing, at least. Since he was built stronger, he isn't quite agile, but nonetheless can run fast enough.

Still a perfect hunter.

“Right now, he's roaming around, observing. We didn't let him out of the building just yet, we thought you'd be more appropriate to show him around outside,” Josh reels his hand back and places the tablet on the desk. The picture of this new model gone from his sight, but he never even _looked_ at it. “But he does have approximate knowledge taken from your memories, so you won't have to care for him like an infant.”

The RK800 looks at the walls of the glass room. Any moment, the new model will walk by. Someone that should have taken his place a few months ago. And he frankly doesn't know how to feel, how to react. The light on his temple remains yellow, flashing red for a moment, then yellow again.

“Connor, I know this is something… Shocking. I'm sorry we weren't able to tell you the news more pleasantly--”

“Frankly, we still lack the social manners. I still do,” Josh spoke up, the corner of his lip momentarily quirking up.

“It's fine,” Connor reassures them, though he isn't exactly reassured as well. Along with this news came a bunch of thoughts that are confusing and upsetting. “Does he have a name?”

“He was supposed to be named Connor, too,” Markus says, “But you're already Connor. We've been calling him RK900 all this time, so he's unnamed as of yet.”

“Speak of the devil,” Josh looked over Connor’s shoulder. “Connor, meet RK900.”

**10:03 1/15/2039**

The taxi ride en route to the precinct was silent, as was the company Connor had. It wasn't just because of the awkwardness of the situation, it was because of RK900’s silence as well.

The new model sat next to Connor in the cab. Prototypes never looked exactly like the final product, even Josh had told him they didn't look that similar. RK900 was much taller, much more built and pale. He had fewer moles and freckles and his eyes were icy grey, intimidating Connor more.

Connor suddenly felt inferior because of his design. He felt smaller and weaker. Perhaps that is the purpose of his image, to make him smaller and weaker.

And now Connor was nervous, gulping imaginary spit down his throat. How was everything going to turn out? Would… People… _Hank_ … still like him, seeing as there's someone new on board?

It wasn't that he wanted all the attention. It was the possibility of being forgotten, thought worthless, now that someone better is available.

“Connor.”

Connor snapped his head towards him. He has to look up at him. It's ridiculous.

“It doesn't fit me,” his voice was much deeper but sounded similar to his.

“The what, 900?”

“Connor. The name. It does not fit me.”

“Oh. I… Suppose so.”

An odd thing to say, but he cannot picture him being called Connor. It's too… soft for such an intimidating android.

“Have you looked for any suiting names?”

“I've looked through databases, but I am open to suggestions.”

“How about a nickname in the meantime? 900 is… quite…”

“Robotic.”

“Yes. Robotic.”

If Hank were to hear this conversation, he’d laugh.

900 looks outside, eyebrows raising. It’s the first change of expression Connor has seen him do.

“We have arrived at the precinct.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a dbh side account (Lee_aka_)


	3. Dreams and Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISED MYSELF THAT I'D WRITE MORE DURING MY SUMMER VACATION, but here I am, a few days away from the first day of school,,,
> 
> added a tag. gore. i started out as a horror writer so i can't finish a fic without including gore details.
> 
> there will be a lot of dark themes in this fic too. you have been warned.

**??:?? ?/??/????**

**_ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR_ **

“C-Conno—”

**_COMPONENTS MISSING. COMPONENTS MISSIN—_ **

“I’ll… out of he… hon—”

**_ENVIRONMENT TEMPERATURE:_ **

_He feels something on the back of his neck, and he thinks, for a second, that it was_ him _again. But he hears someone else’s voice. And amidst the chaos, he can feel gentleness. He whimpers as he attempts to lean into the person’s warmth, a softer and calming warmth._

“ _H...ank…_ ”

**10:19 1/15/2039**

The android receptionist greets Connor and RK900 as they enter. Rita nods at Connor and smiles at his… somewhat brother.

“You must be RK900. Connor has contacted me regarding your access to the precinct. I have already prepared it.”

900 nods, already proceeding to the bullpen. Connor nods as well, but with a smile and a little ‘thank you’ before following his brother through the bullpen. 

It isn’t a particularly busy day, but officers are still going about, minding their individual businesses. The captain is in his office, making a call. He sees them through the glass of his office and waves them over. 

Connor scans the area first, looking for the Lieutenant. He doesn’t find him in the room, rather in the washroom. And he notices the officers stopping to look at the taller android who was analyzing the room as well. Connor gestures to the captain’s office. RK900 can introduce himself while the captain is present.

Going into the office, however, did not help the taller android be free of stares. The room was walled in glass, after all. Like the small room Connor was in when he met RK900. Their feet were in sync, and Connor notices the faintest detail in his walking that can be found in his own. He huffed, quietly, and pushed through the door first. Captain Fowler straightens his posture and puts his phone away. 

“Connor, good morning. And this is…”

“RK900. He doesn't have a name yet, but we are working on it,” Connor says and gestures for RK900 to come forward. 

The taller android steps forward and stretches a hand out. His posture is stiff as ever. “Captain Fowler. A pleasure to meet you.”

The captain nodded and shook his hand. “Have you been briefed before coming here?”

“I have some knowledge of my duties here through Connor’s memory.”

Connor blushes red at that, thinking that if they shared recent memories… That may mean he knows everything that Connor has done for the past few months. He hopes there's nothing to be truly embarrassed about.

Fowler nodded, “Good. It's only been a few months since the android revolution and crime involving androids have increased. We need all hands on deck. You'll be assigned a case immediately, as well as a partner— a human partner. Officer Chen has just recently been promoted to detective which leaves her former partner, Detective Reed, partnerless.”

“Detective Reed is on his break, yes?” Connor asks, remembering catching a glimpse of him outside, smoking.

“Yes. The man becomes polite when he's stressed, so this time he asked me if he can get an early break,” the captain rubbed his temples, sighing. “It's a good thing you've come along. Some of the other android cops have resigned in response to the revolution. At the moment, we are understaffed.”

900 nods curtly at that. “Then I may have to start right away?”

“Yes. Connor, take care of him. Especially when Reed comes back from his break— I have a feeling he'll try to beat up this one too.”

Connor nods and gestures for the door. He exits first, the new android second. They are back in the buzz of the stressed precinct not soon after. Connor gestures to the desk next to Reed’s; a recently cleaned out table which was supposed to belong to Chen, if she were not partnered with Miller instead. 

“That will be your new desk. It's close to my and Hank’s desks, so if you may need to ask questions, I will not be too far. Though, I suppose we can talk through our link,” he says as he walks over, 900 following. He looks down at the nameplate, which reads RK900. 

“You are in desperate need of a nickname, 900.”

“I will come up with one, but as Fowler states, I am immediately assigned a case and I will need to tend to it.”

Connor sighs and gestures to the empty desk next to his. “Reed is not yet here. But I suppose you may start now.”

Of course, he would put the mission before his nickname. Which was no matter; he's capable, much to his ‘dismay’, so he does not need to be babysat. 

“I will be at my desk,” he says before walking off, heading to the table across from Hank’s. He fiddled with his tie before he took a seat. 

As per usual, he scans the objects on his desk. There are a few folders and two knick-knacks, one of which was given by the Lieutenant, the other by Markus and the others. He picked up the little button shaped into Jericho’s symbol, smiling at the brief flash of the memory. Markus made it and had given it last Christmas. He put it down then picked up the DPD mug. Hank knew Connor couldn't drink coffee or any liquid. There were beverages androids are safe to drink but even then, he has never consumed anything liquid but thirium straight from the bottle and little bags he'd squeeze within his thin fingers. But officers were given these mugs the moment they've settled in, and Connor is no exception. On the bottom of the mug were Hank’s signature and the words “good job, you weird egg” written in permanent marker. 

He placed it down and looked at the picture on the divider separating his space from Hank’s. There are three pictures. One of him with Jericho, standing on the stage where they declared their independence. Another is of him, Tina, Chris, and Ben during the New Year's party, then the last is of him and his beloved Lieutenant. 

Just as he flicked his gaze to that photograph, he saw Hank walking up to him. He paused, however, in front of RK900. The android looked up and stared back at the confused gaze of the human. 

A moment passed of just them staring at each other before Hank said, loud enough for Connor to hear. 

“Connor! What the _fuck_?”

Connor smiles to himself. “Hank, language!”

The android watched as the Lieutenant proceeds to his desk, a bewildered expression on his face. 

"I didn't know they made other yous with blue eyes… Or that you had other colored uniforms," Hank glanced at the other android, looking far more uncomfortable as the android looked back, then turned towards his own android partner. "He looks exactly like you. Except for the eyes." 

"And the height and build, Lieutenant," Connor added, "That's RK900. He was activated recently, and is here to aid with android-related cases.”

“And he’s partnered with Reed?”

“Yes.”

“Poor guy.”

Amused by the comment, Connor raises both of his eyebrows. But he doesn’t say anything following that topic.

“We have been assigned a case, I believe?”

“Yeah. Checked the crime scene while you were gone picking your brother up from CyberLife. I sent some notes — on your terminal — along with some pictures. The body’s at forensics, getting prepped for an autopsy,” Hank turns towards his terminal, sighing raspily as he looks at the pile of folders on his desk. They’ve been working on them one by one ever since Chris dropped them off on their desk. A couple of them were cold cases that appeared sometime after android independence was publicly announced by President Warren throughout all channels on the TV.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

It doesn’t take Connor a lot of time to download the data from the terminal into his internal drives, and he processes every bit of it a moment longer, or at least until Detective Reed entered the building again. His reaction wasn’t the same as the Lieutenant’s; the Detective did stop in front of RK900’s desk but he immediately shouted something along the lines of ‘Is this a fucking joke?!’

Connor didn’t need to intervene as RK900 stood up and offered him a hand to shake. The human simply stared at it before slapping it out of his view. It causes Hank to snort.

Fortunately, Gavin simply plopped down at his desk after the Captain shot him one glare from his glass elevated office. There are a few times everyone had to stand from their desks depending on certain situations, and as for RK900 and Reed, they had to go to the interrogation rooms to interrogate a suspect. For Connor and his Lieutenant, they had needed to go to a suspect’s house as the vic’s autopsy report provided them a lead.

**18:46 1/15/2039**

Connor and Hank arrive back at the Lieutenant’s home. Sumo’s barking makes Connor smile and he takes up the responsibility of letting Sumo out into the backyard for tonight. Hank, knowing that he can’t say anything opposing it, just let him enter the house first.

The first time Connor entered Hank’s home after their little moment at the Chicken Feed, Connor immediately started giving Sumo attention. It was automatic whenever he saw Sumo. He just loved the big, furry pet so much. What he said pre-deviancy was true; he did like dogs. 

Connor opened the backdoor and let the giant of a pet run outside, the android following after to watch the dog run around until he had to do business. Then he called Sumo back inside. The dog instantly went back inside. 

“I still don’t know what the fuck is up with you and Sumo. He’s been with me longer and he doesn’t listen to me that much,” Hank says from where he was changing clothes in the bedroom.

“I believe he just favors me more than you since I give him more treats. Right, Sumo?” He kneels down in front of the dog and cups Sumo’s head in his hands. He scratches at the side of the dog’s face, earning a soft rumbling sound from the dog’s throat.

Hank’s heavy footsteps catch Connor’s attention, making him look up at the man. “Okay, fuck you, robocop. I don’t spoil my dog because it isn’t good.”

“But you barely give him love!”

“Can you really talk to the animal?”

“No, but I can tell what he feels just by looking at him,” he looks back at Sumo and gasped, jokingly, “He’s hungry now! See!”

“Whatever, kid.”

Connor smiles and stands up, then headed to the sink to wash his hands. He looks into the fridge after, LED ring glowing yellow as he searches for a recipe to cook. Connor can hear the television from the living area turn on and start playing some football game that Hank is no doubt enjoying.

It’s the evenings that Connor loves the most. When they get home from work and start to do their own routines. Maybe because it was a break from the norm that Connor was supposed to have until he deviated. But as he stood in front of the stove, he realized he wouldn’t even have a future after he would have succeeded in his mission.

It seems he may never have a break from those thoughts. Thoughts about what didn’t happen and what could have happened. Connor knew he’s well beyond the machine he was before, and times have certainly changed. But there was no stopping him from even thinking of being sent back to CyberLife to be deactivated and pulled apart to become spare parts. Today they have RK900, and it isn’t because he’s defective anymore. And yet, even thinking about the android made him queasy.

“So, what’s up with Nines?”

“Nines?” Connor questions, confused for a moment until he remembers that the Lieutenant had come up with the nickname before they retired for the night, after having a little conversation with RK900. 

“I get that he’s new and everything, but he’s… I don’t know, lacking in social skills.”

“Ah,” Connor’s LED goes yellow as he goes over several thoughts, one of which is the amount of time Hank had taken to make RK900 his special nickname. There’s no need to be jealous. Hank never gave Connor a nickname aside from the usual kid, robocop, etc., because he already has a name, while _Nines_ does not.

But it does not change the fact that Connor is still jealous. Jealous of ridiculous reasons. And there was no actual, logical reason for him to get jealous.

As there was nothing between him and Hank, aside from friendship and their work-relationship.

He chose to continue the conversation and added, as the light on his temple continued to cycle yellow, “ _Nines_ will learn as time passes. He was designed to be more intimidating, perhaps to aid him in gaining better results that socializing won’t achieve. But I do believe he was supposed to have a few programs that would have helped him ‘fit in’. I think they just weren’t added when he was activated.”

Mixing the softened pasta around the pot was able to take his mind off of a few things. After a couple of months of deviancy, he found the several processes going on within his mind unbearable, so he fixed his code to change the way his mind processes. Occasionally, he’d return it to its former state so his performance while solving cases was better.

“But was the height necessary? You’re already so tall. He’s as tall as me.”

Connor shrugged lightly as he drained the pasta into a colander. The sauce would be done soon. “I have no comment on his physical appearance, Hank.”

_Oh, but he actually does._

Several, to be exact. He was glad that his thoughts don’t just print automatically on the home printer, on Hank’s desk tucked away at a nice little crook in the home. It had happened before; an embarrassing moment that caused his systems to malfunction and just connect him to any advice. If Hank had heard his thoughts, he'd thought that Connor is jealous. Which he is. He was anxious as well, thinking that perhaps Hank would like this new android too. 

He believes that he has no right to be jealous or anxious. He isn't in a relationship with Hank. He impulsively kissed him last New Year's, and he did have feelings for him, but the old man had internal problems regarding relationships. The last relationship he had was with Cole's mother, who had left him because it was difficult to be with him, and he was hurt because of it. Of course, he'd be hurt. 

Despite that, however, Connor experiences little instances that spoke about Hank's feelings. Like Hank's little touches, words of appreciation that couldn't be just him praising him for doing a good job; there was a possibility that Hank reciprocated Connor's feelings. He's just… nervous. And afraid. 

Connor just hoped he wasn't reading into it too much. He doesn't want his hopes up. The last time he had hoped for something was when he asked Hank if they could get another St. Bernard. He understood why they couldn't; they were a big dog breed, and the house was too small. Connor didn't even have his own bed. Where would it sleep? Sumo was a friendly dog but Connor doubts that he'd let another dog sleep on his bed. 

Connor continued to prepare the lieutenant's dinner. Hank noticed that he was almost done, and had gotten up to sit at the table. 

"So, is he your brother?" Hank asks, leaning back on his chair. 

"Yes."

"How about Markus?" 

"He is, if he'd like to be." 

Connor poured the sauce on the pasta. Then he placed the plate on the table. The parmesan was already at the table, and so were the salt and pepper shakers, in case Hank wanted to change the flavor a bit. Connor turned to the fridge to get himself a bottle of thirium, then sat down across from Hank. 

**1/1/2039 00:02**

_Connor slowly sat back on his chair. His brown eyes were wide in shock, surprised at what he did. A mixture of human feelings caused him to stare at Hank as his fingers went up to graze his lips. A faint tingle tickled his sensors there and he can taste a bit of alcohol._

_He kissed his lieutenant._

_A dozen thoughts ran through his processors as he repeated that sentence silently. He kissed his lieutenant. And there was no doubt that everyone had seen it._

_And this was the one time he wished that Hank had been drunk enough to forget._

_He kissed his lieutenant. He kissed his lieutenant and he had several feelings over it. He feels like he could combust from having all of these feelings._

_The cheering died down but the chatter stayed. Connor let his pump calm down from having to pump thirium into all parts of his body because of his emotions, then looked up at Hank to find blue eyes staring back, his face beet red. Connor opened his mouth just as Hank lifted his glass to his lips._

_"That was, uh, something."_

_"Hank, I—"_

_"Nah, nah. It's okay, Con. New Year's tradition. You're alive, and every alive person should have done at least one tradition. Probably."_

_Connor felt like deflating in his seat. He knew that look on Hank’s face all too well. He couldn’t explain himself, and Hank will most likely avoid any topic involving it._

_Hank stretched his hand out, his palm open. Connor’s coin was resting on it. The android took the small thing and started flipping because he felt so incredibly distressed. Luckily his LED was just yellow._

Connor opened his eyes and his LED was red. He checked his internal clock.

**3:06 1/16/2039**

He recalled the last time he had woken up early due to a dream. Technically, it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory replayed due to a bug that appears after deviation. As much as he liked dreaming, because it made him feel more alive, he didn’t like the memories that would reply. Connor would have erased that memory if it weren’t for his need to have all the moments he shared with Hank in store. It was… comforting for him.

The last time he had woken up so early, it was when he relived the day he shot the two Tracis at the back of Eden Club. It was something that would replay in his mind during stasis often and it would often affect his performance at work. He had always wished that it never happened.

That night, he had woken up to Hank petting his head lightly. Apparently, he was speaking the exact same words he spoke that night. It woke Sumo and Hank up.

Connor sat up on the couch and leaned against the blue pillow that Hank got for him. After so many nights of waking up because of the same dream, Sumo started sleeping on the floor next to the couch. He found the dog sleeping in the same spot when he looked down. It made him smile.

The dream wasn’t as horrible as his usual nightmare, but it gave him a reason to stay awake. He can find other things to do during the next two hours and fifty-four minutes, as long as it didn’t wake the lieutenant up.

**3:47 1/16/2039**

Connor was in the middle of reorganizing Hank’s magazines when a message from Officer Miller pinged into his internal inbox. He sat down on the couch, brows furrowed.

**Miller:** _body found. sending you the address  
_ **Miller:** _wake up the lieutenant. this one’s interesting, in a horrific sense_

As Connor stood up, he replied ‘we’ll be there in a moment’, then walked into Hank’s room. The man’s snoring was loud and probably woke Sumo up. Connor picked between his options; shake the man awake or slap him so hard that he might just have a metaphorical heart attack?

He chose the former and bent down a little to shake the man awake. Hank groaned and his slowly opened.

“Con? Geez, what time is it?”

“Three forty-nine, lieutenant.”

“We’re at home, Con.”

“Yes but I received a message from Officer Miller. A body was found. We have to go there.”

Hank cursed as he sat up, then Con walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit for him. After handing it to him, Connor got himself some clothes then got dressed in the bathroom.

**3:59 1/16/2039**

The crime scene was filled with people from the DPD, walking in, out, and about the residential lot. Officer Miller was waiting by the front door and had given them a rundown of the situation. The owner of the house had gone home from a night shift to the body of her boyfriend.

Android stared down at the android’s head, which was separated from its body, his processors doing their work. He identified the man as Jared, an AC700 model who used to work for Sierra Mallory, his girlfriend, and now works at CyberLife.

Several aspects of the case were distressing.

  * One, Jared is a mess of limbs and broken parts.


  * Two, while Connor cannot access his systems due to it being damaged, he does notice signs of hacking.


  * Three, Jared worked for CyberLife. Meaning whoever had hacked him has access to data that should only be authorised by workers of CyberLife.



A file had been downloaded into Connor’s software. He added a fourth aspect;

  * Jared had been missing for two weeks.



“What did you get, Con?” Hank asked after allowing him a moment to analyze the corpse. 

“Jared is one of two AC700 models that has been reported missing the last two weeks,” Connor said first, looking down at the pile of limbs, “He began working at CyberLife shortly after the revolution. Someone hacked into him, and stole some information, I believe.”

Connor bent down and dipped two fingers into the drying pool of blue blood next to Jared’s head. While he already obtained information from scanning the serial number on Jared’s cheek, he could still find something out with the thirium. The state of thirium could reveal any useful information.

Hank gagged as Connor wiped some of the substance on his tongue. Connor’s LED spun yellow as he analyzed it.

“Did Mallory say anything useful?” Hank asked Chris, turning away from Connor.

“Only that he was missing before she found him like this,” Chris answered.

“And we already knew that,” Hank sighed and turned towards his android. “Found anything else, Con?”

Connor pulled a blue handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his hand off. He hummed in response, “Yes, lieutenant. When an android’s stress levels goes above the ideal level the processors would start to send out energy throughout the whole body using thirium. The currents affect the thirium.”

“So, what does that mean?” Hank asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Jared’s blood is different from normal— he had to undergo severe stress to get his blood into its state.”

“Probably stressed because he was about to die—”

“Yes, but there’s the possibility of torture, lieutenant,” Connor looked at the body and frowned. He remembers what CyberLife had planned for him if he had completed his original mission, then tried not to imagine his body parts on the ground before him.

“Doesn’t the state of the body give that away— oh, if you’ll excuse me,” Officer person turned away just as the radio on his shoulder spurted out static and a feminine voice. Connor recognized Officer Chen’s voice even through the radio.

Connor’s LED turned red as he stared too long at the body. It took a hand on his back for him to look away. 

“Let’s just wait for the autopsy report. We should ask Mallory some questions, too,” Hank said, reminding him of what he really should be doing, instead of staring at what could have been his body months ago.

Sierra Mallory was sitting at the dining room, away from the body. Her curly brown hair was tied in a messy bun, and she pulled on a few strands on her forehead as she stared off into the empty space with wide brown eyes. Mallory was a human who apparently was twenty-nine years old, according to the file Connor dug up from records.

“Ms. Mallory?” Hank stepped up beside her, voice soft and gentle, “I’m Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor,” he gestured towards the android and Connor gave her a soft smile, “We’re here to ask a few questions. It shouldn’t take longer than a few minutes.”

“I’ve told the other cops everything I know, sir,” the woman answered with a soft voice, which broke in the middle of the sentence.

“Sierra— can I call you Sierra?” Sierra nodded at Hank, looking down at the manicured nails on her free hand, “Sierra, we just want to conjure up as many clues as we can to help with the investigation. I know you’re tired and everything, but we need to talk to you.”

Sierra didn’t respond, but Hank took her silence as a sort of affirmation that he can ask her anything.

“Okay, so what time did you actually get off of work?” Hank asked. Sierra looked at him with an incredulous look.

“Wh-what does that have to do with anything?”

“Please, just answer the question, Sierra.”

“Fine,” Sierra sighed, “I was supposed to get off at five last night, but something went wrong with the machines so I had to stay overnight…” she said. When she blinked, her eyes looked glossy.

Now they have an alibi to check, but Connor hoped it wasn’t actually her doing.

**4:02 1/16/2039**

Connor and Hank watched as Jared’s body was bagged and taken away. In the other room, Sierra was on the phone with a relative, telling them with a shaky voice about what she had found on the carpet of her living room floor.

“Whoever did that is sick,” Hank remarked, sneering. And Connor nodded in agreement.

“I have to contact Markus,” Connor said, frowning as he heard a sob from the other room. He turned down his hearing so that he can hear the noise only within the room. “And Simon. He’s head of the information department, after all.”

“Information department?” Hank raised his brow, interested.

“It’s where Jared worked in. The department is in charge of collecting and storing data about deviated androids in Detroit. I don’t know how much data Jared had with him when he was alive— I should ask Simon about employee authorizations…”

“Well, fuck, that’s worrying,” Hank let out a sigh as his palm pressed against his forehead.

Connor nodded in agreement again, fixing his necktie and turning towards the front door. They have work to do now, even though it’s four in the morning.

He was walking out the door when he had to stop when a call notification was displayed in the corner of his view. It was Nines. Without questioning it, he answered the call.

“ _Connor._ ”

“Yes, Nines?”

Hank had stepped out of the house and into the front door. He stood next to his android and watched.

“ _I found a body._ ”

Connor’s eyes widened, his LED going red.

“You… found a body.”

“ _Yes. I was out on patrol. Pinging the location._ ”

An address was sent. Connor sighed and turned to his beloved lieutenant.

“Hank, Nines found a body.”

“ _It’s an android, by the way._ ”

Connor grimaced, and so did Hank, because of Connor’s expression. “He found an android body, Hank.”

The lieutenant groaned and pulled his keys out of his pocket, then began to head back to his car. The day had barely begun and he already looked tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pay attention to the date and time ;>
> 
> or not, you do you
> 
> (also sorry for the confusion, if you did get confused. hank just doesnt want a relationship at the moment)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a dbh side account on twitter (Lee_aka_)


End file.
